How It All Began
by doctorcoffeeboy
Summary: Decided to join in the realm of Teenage!Sherlock at last!   My take on what would have happened if Sherlock and John and the others went to school together. No slash, just good friendships, unless you wanna read it that way... Rated for Elbow room.
1. Public School

**A/N: I am suffering MAJOR writers block, so decided to venture into the wonderful world of AU Teenage!Sherlock. John is here too, as are others, but not Sarah, sorry everyone. If the world of **_**Sarah-Fans **_***do* exist, could you let me know? I wanna know if they're just a myth, like the unicorn, but of course, Unicorns are real, if you know where to look…. Oh, look! Sorry, you just missed one! **

**This has no real plot, so everything that happens is pretty much spur-of-the-moment. I write it whenever I've had a pretty crap day at school because of Teachers or whatever, so Sherlocks' school-life might not be too fun. Bless. Wish me luck! **

**Disclaimer for the entire story: This playpen belongs to the Moffanator, the Godtiss and the Big British Castle; I just play with the toys and see what happens!**

"I'm not going." I crossed my arms defiantly at my brother, eyes on the floor. I wasn't backing out of this one.

"Sherlock. Come on, don't be silly-"

"I fail to see how not wanting to go to a _Public School_," the words were like poison in my mouth "is being silly. I don't need to, all the lessons will be _dull_, the teachers will be _boring_, and the students will be…" I didn't know how to end that sentence. What would they be like?

Mycroft looked at me sternly, catching my eye and not letting go. I stared him down, determined not to lose.

When he saw it wasn't working, Mycroft stepped closer, very much closer, knowing I wasn't comfortable with the closeness.

Closing the final barrier, he put his hand on my shoulder, the contact making me shiver slightly.

"Why can't I stay home and be home-tutored, like I always have been?" My family never saw much point in making me go to school, as I had shown exceptional skill in memory and logic from a young age, making me go to school seem worthless and unnecessary.

"You know Mother can't cope on her own. She's ill enough and weak enough as it is without you in the house unwatched. She's been through too many of your antics already."

Of course, Mycroft was referring to two weeks ago when I had slipped out of the house in the dead of night to get to the swimming pool on the other side of London.

"I've told you! Carl Powers' was murdered! It's obvious!" I insisted. I'd got to the swimming pool and slipped in easy enough, claiming to be 'a friend of Carls and here to collect his bag if possible'. It only took a few tears and a wavering voice. The police had started getting suspicious when I started trying to convince them that he was murdered but couldn't back up my theory. I was just a kid, what did I know?

"Sherlock. You have no proof. All the evidence is pointing the other way. Carl drowned. A tragic accident, but true."

I sighed, it was impossible. "I wouldn't be a problem for Mother. I promise."

"It would make it easier if you just went to school."

"But I don't want to!"

"Our Father would have wanted you to."

I looked down, my eyes prickling slightly. Father had died 3 weeks ago, and I had realised that showing emotion and tears and getting close to people was just a waste of time and it always hurt in the end.

All emotions had been ruthlessly shut out since Fathers' death, and I was refusing the tears to get the better of me.

"But Father's not here any more." I tore myself away from my older brother and stormed for the stairs. I knew I had no choice about the school, but it had been worth a try.

It was still early, so I still had about an hour until school started. Better start getting ready.

Walking into my room I noticed our maid, Shannon, had lain out my uniform on a hook on the back of my door. The black and red tie glared out at me, laughing at me.

Sighing, I slipped into the trousers and shirt, rolling up the sleeves and keeping the top button undone. Leaving the tie where it was for a moment, I fell onto my bed, looking at the ceiling, sighing loudly again without anyone to hear.

Looking around my room, I tried to work out if any other students at my school would have rooms like this. The richer ones might have the new games console and the brick-like phone, and the less-rich ones might have fantast books and posters and records and maybe CDs.

I just had a writing desk, which I mostly used just for work my tutor had given me, a few books on Criminal-rates and casebooks, which were on a shelf by the desk. A chest of draws and a wardrobe containing my shirts were in the corner, and a different desk for my Experiments and test tubes. I still had one going now, trying to work out where the stones the house was made of had originally come from.

So really, my room was basic, devoid of character and cold.

On the wall above me were newspaper clippings and articles about Carl Powers. The police were missing something, but I wasn't sure what, and to be honest I doubted I'd ever know. The very thought was infuriating.

I closed my eyes, thinking about the Carl Powers problem. Mycroft worked for the Government in some way. He was very sheltered about what he did there, but he definitely worked quite high up. He had control over the police in a sort of sense, but refused to trust my judgement about the murder.

My mind started whizzing through what I knew about it. His shoes had been missing, and there was no known reason for his muscles failing on him that day and causing him to drown. I cast my eyes over the articles again. Just a kid, so obviously no enemies. Lived nowhere near London, but in a nice little area, where no-one could hate you.

I let out a sound of frustration. No way to go at it.

I must have drifted of whilst my mind was trying to fix the situation over, because suddenly Mycroft was calling me to get in the car.

Jumping up, I grabbed the tie, carelessly throwing it round my neck and tugged on the blazer, hating the roughness against my skin. Stepping into the new-smelling shoes, I tied them up in a double knot and ran out of my door.

There was no point trying to pull my hair into shape, because it was always ruined as soon as I shook my head slightly. Besides, I didn't want to be _too_ neat.

It was time to try and find out what kind of life _normal_ kids had in a _normal_ life with _normal _friends and a _normal_ school.

This was going to be hell.

A/N: I know he's not even there yet, but this bit seemed sort of important and has been running in my mind for a few weeks now. I stole the 'mother being ill' theory from the Young Sherlock Holmes books by Andy Lane. They are AMAZING. And in those books his Father isn't there either, but it lets a few ideas' out of how he got all his deductive skills, and the violin skill and what-have-yous'.

**So yes, I hope you liked it, I certainly had fun writing this out, whilst drinking coffee and watching Benny and Martin on my DVD. **


	2. Tutor

**A/N: I couldn't stop it, sorry! I love this story! **

**No-one is reviewing though…**

**I mean, thanks to **_**x-Pick'n'Mix-x**_** and **_**98Shaddowolff98 **_**for their review, but where are the rest of you all! I know you all exist, because people have favourited this…**

**Oh, spoilers for Santa Claus…yes, the big red-and-white Christmas guy. And the tooth fairy – the winged creature that flies round with kids teeth in it's bag as if it's perfectly normal and not at all perverted to sneak in on kids in their sleep…**

It wasn't the warmest of days today, so I grabbed my coat and scarf. The coat went to my knees, was black, thick and had middle-sized lapels on it. Buttons instead of zips, to make life faster and easier.

My scarf was dark blue in colour, with neat edges that had already begun to fray. It had belonged to father, and when he died it was going to be thrown out. I'd rescued it, vowing it to be my only reference to his death, and my only link to emotion.

I climbed into the car and instantly got met by Mycrofts' dull voice.

I tried to drown out my Brothers words as he droned on and on at me about School etiquette.

He sort of had a reason, because I never really got on that well with _anyone_. I had a habit of telling people if their partners were having affairs or simply refusing to believe an obvious lie, even if it was meant to be for my well being.

I had stopped believing in Santa at the age of 3, as pure logic taught me he couldn't get round the world in one night, as Time Travel was impossible. The tooth fairy became just imagination around the same time.

But Christ, Mycrofts' voice was boring. I closed my eyes, completely letting his words flow around me but not hitting me.

After a few minutes, I realised he'd stopped and was looking at me expectantly, with an expression that showed he knew I hadn't been listening.

"I get it, I get it." I assured him, keeping my voice at the 'I don't care' level I had recently perfected. "Don't get in their way, and they won't get in mine."

"It's a bit more complicated than that." Mycroft insisted.

"I'll work it out." I waved my hand absently, eyes locking on St. Claires as it came into view. The place looked massive, and my keen eyes instantly sought out what _had_ to be the Science block. At least they'd have big labs. Something to _finally _stem the numbing boredom…

"I'll pick you up afterwards." Mycroft brought me back.

"Sure." I flung open the door. "See you later, and try not to eat all the food in the pantry, I might be hungry when I get back, but I doubt it." I didn't eat much, seeing no point in it. I ate when I needed to, no more than that. Besides, Mycroft made up for my not eating by eating far too much.

I slammed the door before he could reply and walked towards the entrance doors for the school.

I flicked my hair out of my eyes, trying at nonchalance, and hopefully succeeding.

I could feel heads turning my way, whispers of 'new boy' and 'heard he's posh' or 'freak'. Typical, stereotyping before that have all the facts. 'Dead Dad' hit me from behind, and I tried to ignore the stinging it gave me. Obviously the teachers had told them about me.

Taking a deep breath and keeping a care-free/bored expression on my face, I hitched my bag slightly higher on my shoulder, letting the other strap hang loose, and walked purposefully into the school.

It was fairly deserted, because the bell hadn't rung yet, but there was still the odd student around.

Looking quickly at my timetable, after pulling it from my bag, I noticed my Tutor was in L3. English was in E2, and Geography in H5. The _E_ had to be English Corridor. _H_ was probably Humanities, or _Hateful_. So _L_ had to be Language.

Sighing – Languages were _dull_ – I walked towards the appropriate corridor, figuring that the one with all the different languages on the walls and the flags (Mycroft had mentioned National Language Week or something) would be the right one.

Standing outside L3, I took a deep breath again, hearing the chattering voices and just plain teenage _noise_.

Taking the handle, I tried to stop myself shaking and pushed on the door.

As I stepped into my tutor group, I couldn't tell if it was a good or a bad thing that the classroom was already full.

Needless to say, the whole class turned as one to look at me, instantly drinking in the coat, the scarf, my untamed hair, my wary eyes. The stereotype was going to be set in these few minutes.

I swept my eyes across the room, catching the clichés, seeing the 'fake'-girls, the 'bad-ass' boys, the 'brain boxes', and the bullies.

As soon as my analysis was complete, I ducked my gaze to the floor as the teacher stood to greet and introduce me.

"Okay class, this is Sherlock Holmes. I want you all to be welcoming, okay?" I looked slightly left to his shoes and noted he had grass on them. There was no grass around for about 6 miles or so, and the grass in the school grounds was freshly cut. So he had to have come by train or something, because by car would have meant he didn't need to cross grass. I noticed the stub of a ticket in his pocket, and saw it was from Blackfriars.

"Why don't you take the seat next to Andrew Anderson?" The teacher smiled at me. I inwardly sighed, already hating Mycroft more, and sat down where I was told to.

As soon as I put down my bag and took of my scarf, leaving my unbuttoned coat on for now, the kid next to me – Andrew – started to speak.

"What kind of a name is Sherlock Holmes?" He sneered, and I was instantly repelled by his nasally voice. I swept a glance over him carelessly, deciding he wasn't worth full attention, but at least a bit to put my in my place. "What, were you born in the 1800s?" He almost laughed, but it sounded more like a pathetic snigger.

"What kind of a name is Andrew Anderson? I assume you're parents weren't every original? And they clearly didn't raise you well if you don't understand how wrong it is to be cheating with your long-term girlfriend – who is probably blind or stupid to be with you."

**A/N: Um…not sure about Sherlock's ending line, but it's the best I could put up with. Apologies! And yes, what kind of a name **_**is**_** Andrew Anderson! **

**Please Review, I really need it!**


	3. Chance Meetings

A/N: At the request of _EejitCat_ and _toxicjade_, I am going to post out another Chapter for you all! The lessons (Mostly English) are loosely based on the current curriculum for year 10 students in England, I think. Well, I'm doing it, and so is my friend at the other end of the country, so I'll take it as a given that we're all doing it. Sorry if you're not. Actually, you're lucky!

Cheers _toxicjade_ for the main idea in this Chapter, leading to a main part of the story. =D

Before Andrew could come up with an answer, the bell rang, and our tutor let us go.

I threw myself into the group of students leaving, getting distance between my new non-friend and me.

I had just got to the door when my Tutor - Mr James, if I remembered Mycrofts words - called me back.

"You going to be okay finding your way around?" He asked, smiling.

"I'll work it out." I echoed my words to Mycroft a short time ago. "It's simple really, the layout isn't too complicated."

"Okay, well, don't be afraid to come to me if anything is wrong." He held the door open for me.

"Sure." I made myself smile, but knew that if anything happened, I would be sorting it out myself, not asking an _adult_ for help. Besides, didn't want to make enemies with my own tutor yet. But it was only a matter of time.

As I stepped into the corridor, I looked at my timetable, memorising it. English, Maths **– Break –** PE, science **– Lunch –** History, assembly **– Home –**

Science would be interesting, but I probably knew all the stuff we were supposed to be studying. Maybe they'd let me some work on my own.

Sighing to myself, I set of for E5. English Corridor, I had passed that on my way in.

_**: ... :**_

"Right Class! Today we're going to continue _'Of Mice and Men' _by John Steinbeck. Now, if you'd like to take out your copy, we're going to refresh out Annotation and Connotation skills for the beginning of Section Four, in Crooks' room, okay?"

No, it wasn't. I didn't really 'like' to take out my copy. English was Dull. This book was _Dull_, Dull with a capital _D_.

The teacher started reading through the descriptive section at the beginning of the section we were on, and I felt my eyes glaze as I wondered weather she really liked the coffee she drank every morning, or if it was just because her husband drank it and she didn't bother getting herself teabags when she could reduce the costs.

The teacher – Mycroft said 'Mrs. Howard' I think – smiled at me, having finished the paragraph.

"Sherlock, isn't it?" I nodded slowly, not changing my expression. "What do you think Steinbeck was trying to make us think of from the description of Crooks' room?"

"I think he was expecting us to read it…and then read the next sentence, and so on until we finished it, like you're supposed to do with books." I shrugged, not seeing the point in reading into the words.

"Yes~…" The smile seemed a little forced now. "But what was he trying to make you think of?"

"He was trying to make us think of reading on." I persisted, wondering why she didn't get it.

"You're not connotating it Sherlock. What do the words imply?"

I sighed. "Fine." I smiled fakely. She wasn't getting it, so I would have to state it clearly for her.

"_I think_ this was written years ago in America by a man who had no idea that people in England would be reading into it years later and dissecting each sentence. _I think_ he just wrote what seemed to fit and didn't spend hours trying to work out why his mind asked him to put the woman in a Flowery Dress or whatever. And…" I paused. "_I think_ you know this, because you've been teaching this lessons for years and the thought must have occurred to you at some point in that time."

Mrs. Howard's smile faded. "Go to the head teachers' office. Now."

I rolled my eyes and stood up, taking the time to shrug into my coat before slinging my bag onto my shoulder and strolling out.

I never really saw the point into trying to work out sentences like that.

I had no idea what I wanted to be when I was older, but I knew for sure that _Connotating_ wasn't going to be a part of it. t wasn't even particularly logical. I mean, sure, it was about seeing what your mind makes you subconsciously think of, but there was no real interest in it for me, because the thoughts didn't really lead anywhere, so they were pointless and didn't need to be in my mind.

There was another main point. I was definitely not going to the Headteachers office. That would be boring, and school was sort of a way to numb the boredom. Plus, I'd have to recite the whole idea about why Connotation was a waste of time.

It wasn't like I couldn't find the main office, I'd passed it at the entrance, but …

There was a whole new Science block across the courtyard calling my name.

It would have labs full of real, powerful microscopes hooked up to amazing computers, and state of the art equiptment for anything I'd need.

Smiling to myself, I headed for the Science block, strolling as casually as I could pass the classes where lessons were happening, trying to look like I was supposed to be here and I wasn't skipping a boring English lesson followed by plain, stupid, _Dull_ maths, where the equations are fit only for 3 year olds.

The higher up the levels I got, the less people and technicians were wandering around. I found my way to the very top at the farthest end from the main doors, and tried the handle.

It was locked, but a paperclip snapped in half took next to no time – I'd spent much of my pastimes trying to get into my Fathers' cupboards and beuros to see what was so important, and the rest of it getting easily into Mycrofts, so I could swap his things and entertain myself that way.

I closed the door carefully behind me and looked out at my own little corner of Heaven. Well, I didn't believe in Heaven, but if it was real, mine would be pretty close to this.

All the surfaces were clean and neatly furnished; the equipment was gleaming and perfect, just waiting for me to experiment on something. _Anything_.

I hung up my coat, and draped by blazer over the back of a chair in front of a microscope, taking of my tie as well, rolling up my sleeves and undoing the top button. I didn't want to ruin my tie or my sleeves. Mycroft wouldn't be happy, and it would be more work for Mother.

I looked around the room again, familiarising myself, knowing I would probably be here a lot. I ran my hand through my hair, and back the other way, letting out a long breath.

Grinning, I went towards the cupboard full of various chemicals.

_**: … : **_

I was studying my fingerprints, trying to work out if they were of the 'double loop' or the 'accidental' kind, when I heard the door open. The steps were close together and hesitant, so I assumed it was simply another student, so I didn't bother looking up from my work, it was more interesting.

"Um, I really think you shouldn't be here." It told me. I flicked my eyes across, catching sight of shoes, school trousers, and not the longest of legs. Not a tall student then. The voice was worried, wary, but interested. "What are you looking at?"

"My own fingerprints. Couldn't check anyone else's." I murmured.

"Oh. Won't somebody catch you?"

"At least it would be interesting. Maths is boring."

I heard him make some sort of agreeing noise.

"How did you know where to look?" I had to know, if a student could work it out, that meant a teacher could, easily.

"Well, Mrs. Howard sent me to look for you when there was no sign of you at Mr Green after she'd checked. I couldn't find you anywhere, and you hadn't signed out, so I thought you'd either left, or you'd be here, it was the only place I hadn't checked. If you _were_ here, you wouldn't be in a lesson, and you wouldn't be near the lessons, so I checked every room from the second floor up."

I smiled to myself. "Very good." I congratulated. Deeming this kid worthy of my time, I stood up, turning to face him, a smile slightly on my face.

"Sherlock Holmes." I introduced myself.

"John Watson." He smiled, and I began to take in his appearance as he looked at his watch to check the time.

"So, how long have you wanted to be in the army?" I asked casually.

"I…um…sorry, how did you know?" John stammered, looking at me in shock.

"Simple. First, I can see you're watch is 24 hour, which is normal, but mostly the Army use it, and the band is in Army camouflage, but that could mean anything these days. You go to Army Cadets and have recently been to Cadet Camp, and you've been to the paintball game last weekend. So you've got the air of a soldier already."

"How do you know about the paintball?"

"You have faint stains on the palm of your hands from changing the cartridges, and they've not quite gone, so you played recently, but not too recently. So last weekend would have been your only chance since the nearest Paintball area is weekend-only and school-groups only, meaning you went with your Cadet Camp, since no-one else is talking about it in the corridor to their friends. Your limps really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair, meaning you're too proud to admit to it. Going from the stains on your hands again, I can deduce you probably got shot in paintball, and so you don't want to complain, because you're annoyed that you got hit.

"And the Cadet Camp?"

"You have a military bearing and the haircut of a soldier, meaning you go to Army Cadets and recently went to Cadet Camp, and haven't got out of the habit of standing to attention. You're in good shape, but I can't see it being because of PE here, so you've been doing obstacle courses and put effort in, so it means a lot to you. There was just a School holiday, you're in Army Cadets, and the weather was nice, of course you had a Camp."

I'd already turned away to my work, finishing up, having noticed there were only a few minutes left of Maths. I'd lost track of time.

"That…was. Amazing." John told me.

I felt a small smile form. "Really? You think so?"

"Yes, that was completely. Amazing."

"That's not what people usually say." I commented.

"What do people usually say?"

"Sod off…" I shrugged. Whenever Father had people over, I used to tell them about their affairs or what they had for tea, and they thought me weird. I'd eventually stopped going to meet any guests, because I seemed to be able to read them too much.

It was their fault for being so blindingly obvious.

John laughed.

"So, should we get going? Technicians come around at break and lunch to make sure everything is ready for the next lessons, we should get going." John nodded at my uniform. "You should sort that out too."

"Sure." I didn't really do what people told me to, but somehow I liked John. He hadn't run when I told him his hobbies, in fact, he'd found it interesting. This student was different, better, cooler.

I slipped my blazer over my shirt, leaving the sleeves up, and did up the tie round my neck, covering the fact that the top button was undone.

Just as I grabbed my coat, the bell rang for break time and I pulled my coat on, looping my scarf round my neck and slinging my bag onto my shoulder.

"Where you going for break?" John asked me, walking by my side.

"Um, I don't know. Away from crowds, and Andrew Anderson."

"He seems really riled up about you for some reason, what did you say at tutor?"

I inwardly smiled; at least _one_ person in my tutor liked me. It'd probably stay like that.

"I told him about his affair, and told him how unoriginal his name was." I admitted.

John smiled. "He's not going to like that, you should watch out."

"I can handle myself." I smiled back but it was soon wiped from my face by a flying stone hitting my jawline. It was only small, but I already felt blood pooling to the surface.

"Oi! Sherlock Holmes!" Andrews' nasally voice called me.

"Are you alright?" John asked me worriedly.

"My brother is going to kill me for getting into this and ruining my shirt." I sighed. "Look after this." I gave him my bag, turning to look at Andrew.

"Ah, Andy Anderson, always a chore, never a pleasure." I smiled, wiping my face and grimacing at the smear on my hand. "You know how bad that was, right?" I tutted. "You don't even have a good aim. How's the affair?"

Suddenly there was a roar from Andrew, and he threw himself at me.

**A/N: **_**toxicjade**_**s' idea to make Sherlock skip lessons, so thank you, without that idea, I wouldn't have been able to replicate Johns' first meeting and make it my own.**

**I know, **Cliffhanger! **But don't worry; there will be another one up soon-ish, hopefully.**

What did you think? Did it go good? How should I make this fight pan out? Do you have anything you'd like to happen next? ANYTHING is worth sending me in a review, I promise they make me grin like an insane maniac!


	4. PE

A/N: Hello everyone! It's time for another exciting instalment of 'How it all Began'. Actually, speaking of the title. Do you all like it? I was thinking of changing it to something cooler. If anyone out there (That includes *you*) has an idea for a new name, I'll enter all of them into a poll later this week.

**As always, thankyou to one of my new awesome best friends: **_**toxicjade**_**! Most of these ideas have come from her. It appears she is my prompt-supplier.**

**And thanks to **_**x-Pick'n'Mix-x**_** for just being Awesome! You should seriously check out her profile out. No, no, no! WAIT! Not *now*, **_**later!**_

I felt myself fall back as Anderson threw himself at me, and blindly struck out, hoping to hit somewhere. I got a yell in response, so I worked out it was probably his face.

Anderson tried my tactic, just throwing his fist in my direction, and grazing the side of my own face. I could hear cheers and yells, leading to the idea that there was probably a group around us.

I bought up my knee, hitting between his legs, so Anderson yelled in pain and fell back. But I no sooner had time to sit up and wipe my face that he had renewed his attack, landing flat on me and throwing me back onto the floor again with a crunch that didn't sound good, and now just throwing his arms around again, hitting my arms, chest and the air.

It should have hurt, all of my body was thinking it should hurt, but it just didn't. Anderson had no momentum, he didn't know how the carry a punch, he'd probably only ever had a fight with a girl, and I bet she won.

With this idea in my head, I somehow managed to flip so Anderson was beneath me, and timed each hit perfectly, carrying just the right weight behind each one so that they all counted.

Anderson was now just flailing his army around uselessly and I kept hitting, not enough to hurt any more, just to stop him getting to me.

Suddenly I felt a hand on the back of my coat as I was roughly pulled back wards.

Looking up, I saw a dark-blond, shorthaired year 11 with a tight grip on my jacket and a stern expression on my face.

"You just got here and you're already causing a fuss." He shook his head, and I noticed the 'head boy' badge. Oh crap.

Letting me go, he looked at Andrew. "Anderson, get out."

"Bye Andy." I said.

Andy glared at me and left, a few of his group following.

"I know he started it, but you can't get into fights like that." Head boy looked at me. He sighed, taking in my dusty uniform.

"Greg Lestrade." He greeted me, and held out his hand.

"Sherlock Holmes." I shook it loosely. John stood behind me.

"Hi Greg." He smiled. "I see you've met my friend."

I frowned slightly. _Friend?_ The word sounded foreign, even in my mind. I'd never had _friends_.

"Yes John. Try and keep him out of trouble, yea? I'll keep an eye out too, but." Greg shrugged, smiling.

John lead me away by the arm, away from the crowds.

"Greg's head boy, but he's not an idiot. He'll keep an out for everyone, and still have a laugh, without spending 24 hours doing school work like a nerd." John explained.

I nodded.

"Do you need to go to the MI room to sort out those grazes on your face?" John asked me.

"No, I'll manage."

John sighed. "Okay." He could see I wasn't going to give in.

"Come on. We've got PE next." John smiled. I sighed.

"PE is dull."

"But you don't have a choice. Come on!" John tugged me. "We've wasted time and you don't want to be getting changed when everyone else is ready and sitting down."

I pulled of my shirt, hanging it on the peg, and turned to see John staring at me.

"Um…John?"

John shook his head. "Sorry. It's just…how bloody thin are you!" John asked incredulously.

I looked down, and realised with dim shock, that my ribs were faintly visible. Okay, almost a lot 'faintly'.

"I just don't need to eat much."

"Do you mean you don't eat much, or you _choose_ not to."

"I just never saw the need to continuously eat when my body doesn't completely need it."

John shook his head, and I just pulled the yellow polo shirt over my head, grimacing at the colour. It was way too bright for my liking.

Just as I tied my laces, the teacher walked in, telling us to take our seats. My torture was about to begin.

"Sherlock. You have to take part." Mr Kinsey insisted.

"I don't see why. I'm perfectly fit and healthy, and I'm in no danger of being overweight. Why should choose to play a sport I hate?"

"You're a student here. It is school rules to play Rugby."

"I don't care…It's against my religion."

A/N: Hi! How are you? Yea…mmhmm…really? Wow, how did you stop the giraffe? Seriously? *Gasp*!

Right well, when you've finished with that, can you let me know what you thought of this Chapter?

And don't forget! If you've got an idea for a new story-Title for this, let me know and I'll put it on a poll.

Cheers!

_Doctorcoffeegirl x_


	5. Misunderstood conversations

A/N: I'm letting you all suggest Titles for this fic until Thursday, then I'm letting you all vote, alright? So far I have…1. But it's a good one!

Also, I have made it a sort of vow to make Sherlock call something 'Dull'

(because as Sherlock said in Chapter 1, _Dull with a Capital D_)

in every Chapter, if not out loud, then at least in his head.

I got out of the Head Teachers' office fairly easily. Mycroft had informed the school that I was 'extremely temperamental' and 'emotionally unstable' apparently, so I got away with the fight as well.

The downside was I now sounded like a kid about to commit suicide any moment, with little or no warning. All the kids were being very careful around me.

I walked silently to my Science lesson, keeping my head high and daring anyone to look at me and hold my stare as they weaved a path around me, as if I was not to be touched.

Mycroft was _so_ going to get it for this. Now I was like a leper. What was it Mycroft had basically said?

'_Don't get in their way, and they won't get in mine.'_

Well, they were definitely not getting in _my_ way, but there was no reason why I shouldn't get in theirs.

I walked into my Science lesson, eyes instantly scanning for my only ally in my year group: John.

Seeing no John, I inwardly sighed and took a seat at the front of the classroom, so I couldn't see everyone's eyes boring into me, I would only feel them. Somehow that wasn't as bad.

The Teacher – Mr Smith – spoke to us for a little while about Chemical Reactions and the effectiveness of certain chemicals for other chemicals.

I was hooked into every work. Chemistry was so logical. It was perfect, it was beautiful. The ability to make new substances my methodically mixing others, it was pure poetry in action.

When Mr Smith told us to get to work with our microscopes and our test tubes, I knew exactly where I was going and got each piece of equipment without hesitation, whereas students that had been here for a while were still hesitating to find test tube racks.

"Um…hi." I looked up and saw a fairly attractive girl, her hair tied in a thick, loose ponytail with a side parting. Her hair was mousy brown and her smile was sweet and hopeful, with a bit of lip gloss on.

"Hello." I kept my eyes on the test tube, mixing Methyl Orange with Sodium Hydrogen Sulphate to get a red colour. Proving there to be Acids in Sodium Hydrogen Sulphate. I already knew this, obviously, but it was definitely more interesting than just bookwork.

"I was just wondering if you needed anything. Any…help, maybe?"

I looked up again, forcing a faint smile. "Um…a little copper sulphate would do nicely." I looked back at the test tube, logging the changes as I placed in some copper.

"Oh. Okay." She looked a little bit flustered and turned round, hopefully to go and get what I'd asked.

It faintly occurred to me how strange she'd been acting, and her eyes had been fluttering a fair amount. I just shook my head, disregarding the thoughts and getting on with my experiment.

The lesson ended, and just as I was grabbing my bag to sling over my shoulder and re-arranging the lapels on my coat, the girl came over again.

"I was wondering…" I looked up as she started speaking, and couldn't help but cut in.

"You're wearing make up. You weren't wearing make up before." I stated.

"I…um…refreshed it a bit."

I nodded non-believingly. There was no way I wouldn't have noticed earlier. "Continue." I chose to ignore the slightly deep stare she was giving me.

"I was wondering if you wanted to sit with me at lunch?" She smiled hopefully.

"No thanks. I don't really eat at lunch, and I'm staying with John anyway." I turned, walking away from the girl…

…and straight into John.

"Sherlock!" John put his hands out and steadied me. He looked over my shoulder, and concern lit his face. "What have you said to Molly?"

"Who?" I turned, catching her eye, and felt confused to see them suddenly begin to almost get brighter. I hurriedly looked back at John. "What about her? And why is she staring at me like that?"

"Did you reject an invitation to stay with her at lunch?"

"Yes John. Why?"

"She fancies you." John sighed. Seeing what was probably confusion on my face, he smiled sadly. "She thinks you're incredibly attractive and was asking you to stay with her to learn more about her, and you her. She was probably going to ask you out." He explained.

The idea sounded plausible, but not interesting.

"Oh." I said, walking past John towards the school grounds.

"You're not going with her?" John caught up, trying to match his stride with mine.

"No. I don't particularly want to." I shrugged. "So…lunchtime? What do we do?"

"Eat. Usually you _eat_ at lunchtime."

"Never saw the point." I stated.

"Okay~. You eat breakfast though, right?"

"If I need to."

John began to speak back, but realised it was worthless and just followed me as I headed towards the science block again. It was the most interesting area in this place.

Lunchtime ended with a bang. Almost literally.

I was testing what happened when you put all group 7 chemicals together and added water. The answer:

BOOM

"What do you have now?" I casually asked, shaking my head and smiling at the dust cloud.

"Geography. You?"

I groaned. "History."

"You've got Mr Jones. He's really cool."

"He might be, but History is Dull!" I complained.

"You've still got to do it."

"Yes, but it's useless. It's happened, end of story. What's the point in studying the past?"

"To see how things came to be?"

"I fail to see how studying the 'possible' theory for the Black Death, which turned out to be a false theory anyway, is _useful_. Besides, they say 'it's all been done before', right? I bet that's a lie."

"It's just part of the exam, okay Sherlock?"

"I suppose." I gave the now pristine science room a quick glance, making sure we had cleaned everything up, before closing the locking it behind me with the key I had swiped from Mr Smith when he was explaining something to a girl with thick brown hair in natural ringlets with a sharp face. Not unattractive, just sharp.

Looking back at John, I noticed his uniform did not match the clean room. His trousers were covered in dust that I was unsure how we had even created, and his blazer had a few burns from where the liquid had hit him.

Looking down, I saw myself in the same sort of state, except I had been closer, so there were more burns and even a few holes in the fabrics of my clothing.

We walked to our lessons, because they were next to each other, both of us wondering what our teachers would say.

"Good luck." John smiled, gesturing to a room next to his own lesson. "Meet you out here afterwards for assembly?"

"Sure."

As soon as I walked in, the class stared at me. The teacher looked at me, daring me to give a reason for my truancy.

"I was seeing what happened if you mixed all the group 7 chemicals with water, sir. Sorry for being late." I started.

"You seriously think that coming to this lesson dressed like that is okay? Get out boy, your uniform is a disgrace."

I turned, shrugging. I didn't really need a history lesson anyway. I bet _that_ hadn't been done before.

Closing the classroom door behind me, I turned and saw John doing the same.

"You too, huh?" He suggested.

"Yea. I'm a disgrace, apparently." I smiled.

"Come on, might as well sign out of school and get home, they won't let us into Assembly like this."

I nodded, leading the way to the office.

John and I walked to the gates, with the intention of getting the bus to our homes, when a sleek black car pulled up in front of us.

The window unwound and I made sure I got the first line.

"How did you know I'd be out now?" I asked Mycroft.

"I have my ways. John Watson, I believe." Mycroft got out of the car and held out his hand, letting John shake it.

"How do you know my name?"

"It's easy to access the computer databases." Mycroft shrugged. "Come on Sherlock. You really did make an impression today. And John, well done for making accomplices with my brother, you have succeeded in places where others do not dare." He got back into the car, leaving the door open for me.

I looked at John. "Sorry about that. I've got to go. He gets' really grouchy and even moodier when I don't listen."

John nodded. "Okay, see you tomorrow?"

"Of course. We're both stuck here." I smiled, climbing into the car.

The windows wound up and Mycroft turned to me.

"You've really messed up today Sherlock. Talking back to your English teacher, refusing to go to the Head teachers office, completely skipping Maths, breaking into a Science room _twice_, getting into a fight, talking back to your PE teacher, _ruining_ your uniform, and setting a bad start for your school life."

"I know all I need to Mycroft. I don't see the point in school. I was still learning by testing those chemicals."

Mycroft shook his head and turned away, apparently I wasn't worth his words right now.

Neither of us spoke for the rest of the drive, each wrapped up in our own thoughts.

Well, Mycroft was probably just wondering if he could steal a few more iced buns from the pantry. I was pondering over the enigma of John Watson.

There was something different. Most people ran when I told them their personal lives, John had accepted it. Hell, he'd even praised it.

He hadn't given up on me, and got angry when I expressed my disliking to most of the lessons and activities. He'd stayed and helped me when I ruined the science room. He didn't have to, he'd not done anything to help it get in the mess, but he helped clean it.

_Is that what friends do for each other? Help? Well, I think I _like_ having a friend._

A/N: Woah. That was a lot of writing. I didn't mean that much, but…um…you're welcome? I'm guessing.Did you spot Molly? If you didn't, shame on you! Even Anderson could have!

So, This Chapter you met Molly, last Chapter you met Lestrade, Chapter before we met John, and before that was Anderson, and Mycroft in Chapter one.

**Who should we meet next? **


	6. Rejection

**A/N: Wow! A Third Chapter in Three days! This is weird.**

**As always, thanks, in no particular order, to the marvellous **_**x-Pick'n'Mix-x, toxicjade**_** and **_**Pikeru's Angel**_** for always keeping me going, being up for a laugh, or just offering fantastic prompts and story ideas. You guys are AWESOME! And thanks **_**toxicjade**_** for giving me the following idea in the Tutor Scene.**

**You're just lucky guys, I'm on my school holiday, so no one can stop me. It's mist as hell out of my window, and I just keep thinking of the film Silent Hill. I can't go outside now, or the monsters will get me. **

**Right, Onwards and Sidewards!**

**Oh, bit Angsty in this one, but not the Angst you're thinking of. Sherlock doesn't fancy anyone.**

_**|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|SH|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|**_

As soon as the car stopped, I jumped out of my side of the car, running into the house, leaving Mycroft to make his own sweet way to the pantry, like the damned Cake-Ninja he truly was.

Myself, I ran up the stairs, throwing my coat onto the banister as I went, and headed for my Fathers' study subconsciously. I wanted to tell him what had happened at school, hear him laugh about my experiment, and tell me Mother would be okay.

As soon as I opened the door, the smile on my face froze and broke.

Of course. Father had died 3 weeks ago. I walked carefully into the room, looking at everything in awe. It was exactly as he'd left it.

I closed my eyes, remembering.

Suddenly the emotion became too much and I had to get out. I turned, running out of the room, not bothering with the door, and ran straight into my Nanny.

Mrs. Hudson had been employed when I was very young, because Father was always abroad, and Mother was busy, and Mycroft was working at whatever secret service I wasn't to know about.

She'd seen how badly I had taken Fathers' death, because she had to deal with my dark moods, my periods of non-speaking, and just my general mix of emotions.

So when she put her arms securely round me, and saw the door to Fathers' study open, she was quick to work it out.

"Oh Sherlock." She ran a hand comfortingly through my hair and held me tightly.

It occurred to me suddenly that this was what a hug felt like. I'd refused to be comforted on the dat Father died, and after that I blocked out any emotion, so there was no point, but now I really needed comfort.

"I miss him, Mrs. Hudson." I murmured, closing my eyes tightly as the tears began to fall.

"I know dear, we all do. But we just have to keep going. He wouldn't have wanted you to mope around like this."

Part of me was screaming that it didn't matter what he would have wanted me to do, because he didn't care any more, he just left me in this godforsaken world…alone.

But the more dominant part, which was annoying the emotional side, agreed that I should move on.

I stepped back, wiping my face from tears, but smearing it with dust from the explosion.

"What _have_ you done to your bloody uniform?" She all but shrieked.

I coughed back a laugh, finding it funny when my Nanny cursed like that.

"I was seeing what happened if you mix-"

"Tell me no more young man. You go and get out of those clothes right now, you hear me?"

I nodded and took myself upstairs to my room, burying myself in my experiments with fingerprint powder, and trying not to let emotions claim me.

Obviously I skipped dinner. Not on purpose, I just got too involved in my work, but it wasn't too important to eat anyway.

_**|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|SH|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|**_

Mycroft pulled me out of bed and threw my clothes at me the next morning. I'd slept in, still in my day-clothes because I fell asleep at my desk.

Mrs. Hudson had fussed over me, telling me to try and fix my hair, and finally agreed that it was impossible, and let me go to school.

The car journey was awkward and silent, but I felt comforted in the fact that I would get to see John again. The idea of seeing my friend again was a happy one, but happiness was kind of a forgotten emotion, so I shut it out.

As soon as the car stopped I got out of the car, not even bothering to insult Mycroft this time, and headed straight for tutor, walking in with more confidence than yesterday.

That's when I remembered who I was sat next to.

"Hello Andy Anderson." I smiled falsely, sliding into the chair next to him.

"Shut up idiot, or I'll have to punch you again."

"You think that was a fight? Come on Andy, it was pathetic!" I scolded. "Shame on you."

Andy looked at me, threatening words ready on his lips.

"Oh, back of Andy." A girl came leant on the desk next to me, looking at Andrew. "Just coz you've lost your real girlfriend."

Looking up, I noticed it was the girl Mr Smith had been speaking to yesterday in Science when I stole his key.

I smirked at Andy's expression and looked at the girl. "Don't mind him, he's just angry with the world because his parents got divorced recently." I told her loud enough for the whole tutor to hear.

"Who told you that!" Andy looked at me.

"You did. You look really upset and angry without anyone having to speak to you, and it's mostly self-anger. Plus, you've not slept much, meaning whatever it was has been troubling you at home, so it's a family thing. You're spoilt, so you're an only child, meaning that it's not a sibling, so it must be parents."

"That was amazing." The girl turned, her curled brown ringlets seeming to swirl of their own accord. Don't get me wrong, she was attractive, just not…_that_ attractive. "I'm Sally Donavon."

"Sherlock Holmes." I smiled politely.

At that moment, John came over, and Sally left. I turned to talk to John, not wanting to see Andy's face; it was putting me of.

"Gonna blow up the Science Lab again today?" John asked, smiling.

"Maybe. Depends how I feel." I smiled, grabbing my bag as the bell went. "What you got?"

"Science. You?" John grabbed his own bag, following me.

"Science. Pity you're not in my class. It's Dull on my own."

"You'll do fine, it's not my job to be there 24/7 to make sure you're not bored." John sighed, but smiled to show it wasn't harsh.

"Well, it should be." I muttered, getting a laugh from my friend.

I walked into my class, sat down and waited for the teacher to give us our task and as soon as he dispersed us, I quickly got the equipment and took it back to my desk, getting started.

Molly didn't come over this time, but Sally did.

"Hi." She stood next to me. "Want some help?"

What was it with girls in this lesson? Did they all assume I couldn't work alone!

"No thankyou. I'm fine."

"Oh, okay." She wasn't moving. I looked up at her, waiting for her to go, but she stepped

closer.

"Um…what are you doing?" I asked worriedly.

"I was wondering." Oh god, that's how Molly started yesterday. "Do you maybe want to catch a movie some time?"

If what John had told me yesterday was right, she wanted me to go out with her. Oh God.

"Um, Sorry, I'm not in the mood." I answered.

"But it's not now, just some other time."

"Thanks, but I don't wish to be with someone that's been touched by Andrew. Besides, you're not my type."

"Freak." Sally turned away, disgust already on her features. So she didn't mean it. Probably just wanted the new toy: me.

Feeling exactly the same as before she'd walked away, and guilt free, I turned back to my experiment.

One more person in the year group that didn't like me. Seemed I was building quite a list…

_**|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|SH|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|**_

**A/N: DOUBLE WHAMMY! The Hudsonator (thankyou **_**EejitCat**_** for that name) AND Donavon. **

**Hmm…not sure about that one. It wrote itself. I hope It's cool. I'm a bit distracted. Watching Mentalist and internet-chatting to **_**x-Pick'n'Mix-x**_**. HI! *Waves at said person***

**Anything anyone would like to see happen? Who should we meet next? What lesson/torture should Sherlock have to endure?**


	7. Vanessa

**A/N: A very good thankyou to **_**TheSilverDanger**_** for poking and telling me on repeat that I needed to update this, and asking to guest-star in it. **

**So, for all of your enjoyment, I present Chapter Seven, featuring Vanessa Warren! **

XxXxXxX

I checked my plannì¥Á37 33ð¿3333333333333Ù¤33

3bjbjUU333333333333333333 3.337|337|33Ù  
¤333333333ÿÿ¤333333333ÿÿ¤33333333333333333l33333¨3333333¨333¨3333333¨3333333¨3333333¨3333333¨333µ

3r choice? I certainly hoped so; _Mice and Men_ was awfully tedious.

I met John outside my classroom, and we headed for the library together.

"So, how'd you 'Dull' lesson go?" John smiled.

"Ugh. Terribly." I sighed dramatically.

Just then, Sally decided to push her way past me, not exactly gently either. I watched her go and rubbed my arm absently.

"Oh God. Did you reject her as well?" John asked.

"Not really my area." I muttered.

"Well, fair do's. Don't worry; she makes moves at everyone. We've all rejected her."

I nodded, that made it a little better, at least.

We walked up the steps to the library, having dumped our bags and already either got out the books we were reading or planed on getting one from the library itself.

"Be careful this time." John told me as we jumped up the last 10 steps a few at a time.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." I rolled my eyes.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Howard chose that moment to call me as soon as I arrived in her eye-line.

"See you in a minute." John murmured, rushing of to get a table.

I walked over to Mrs. Howard, hands in pockets, an attempt at a polite smile on my face.

"You didn't go to Mr Green yesterday." She stated.

I had absolutely no idea what to say to that. What was I expected to say? 'Yes, I know' was too cheeky. 'Yea, I did!' was obvious lying. 'Well done' was way too far. I decided to stay quiet.

"Next time I ask you to do something, I want you to do it." She told me.

I nodded, already deleting this information as soon as I'd turned round.

My eyes found John and I wandered over, sliding into the chair next to him.

"You need a book." John smirked. "Being in a Library and all."

I nodded, smiling, and was just about to stand up when a girl with blondish hair – but nice, of course – and blue eyes skidded into the seat opposite.

"Hey John." They smiled at each other. "Try this." She held a book in front of me.

"Skulduggery Pleasant." I read.

"Yea, it's really cool, I think you'd like it." She grinned, and I smiled back, there was something nice about this girl. Possibly the fact that she wasn't trying to hit on me.

"Oh, Sherlock, this is Vanessa." John gestured between us.

"Hi." I shook her hand and took the book, already leafing through the pages, looking at the artwork on the inside sleeve.

"You know, you've built quite a bad-boy reputation." Vanessa grinned. "What with fighting with the idiot of the year and rejecting orders from once of the strictest teachers, and your not even on the break time of day two yet!"

I smiled. "Yea, well, he started it."

Vanessa grinned. "He usually does, don't worry."

I grinned back. Seems Vanessa was nice, I could see a friendship between her and I, and John of course!

XxXxXxX

**A/N: Taa-daaa. I know it's not much, but I promised Nessa I would update…**


	8. History Class

Me, Vanessa and John spoke for a while, about nothing much, until the teacher told us to stop and to be quiet.

The book Vanessa suggested I read was actually really good. Fantasy and Magic wasn't really my thing, but this was different, better. I guess everyone gets surprised.

The lesson finally ended and we were allowed to leave.

"It's break time now, right?" Vanessa caught up with me and John on the stairs. "Is it okay if I hang out with you guys?"

"Sure." John nodded, I smiled. "Then Sherlocks' got history." He looked at me, smirking. I groaned.

"Hey, me too!" Vanessa grinned.

I smiled. "Oh thank god. I didn't want to go in there alone, not after last time."

"Yea." Vanessa laughed. "Sir wasn't too happy about your uniform. Oh, there's a spare seat next to me actually, I'm sure Sir won't mind."

I smiled appreciatively. "That would be great."

John sighed. "I've got photography."

"Ah, the world of bold colours and jumbo crayons." Vanessa laughed.

John look at my expression of pure confusion. "Oh, the main History teacher, and yours actually, Mr. Jones, always jokes that Geography is all about colouring in with jumbo crayons." He paused. "It isn't though."

"Just mostly." Vanessa cut in, and John grinned as she laughed. I smiled, having friends like this was nice, but the prospect of a group of friends was just really not pleasant. "Well, our rooms are next to each other remember, so why don't we just head up there now? They're on the other side of the school. You don't want anything to go wrong this time Sherlock."

I nodded. "Well, Mrs. Hudson got me some clean uniform, and we didn't tell Mummy, she would have worried too much."

Vanessa coughed a little on her drink. "Did you say 'Mummy?'" She asked carefully.

"Yes. That's what I've always been brought up to call her, same as Mycroft."

Vanessa nodded. "Right~."

"Why? What's wrong with it?" I asked.

"It's just, well. Most people call their parents Mum and Dad." John explained.

"Oh, I call mine Father." I frowned.

"Don't worry, it's not a problem, just different." John assured me, smirking slightly.

"Good different!" Vanessa chipped in before I could take it badly. I smiled at her.

Vanessa's eyes sparked up suddenly. "Oh, that reminds me. What the hell did you touch to make that dust and burning?"

"I was checking what happened if you put all group 7 chemicals together and added water. I had no idea it made dust and little droplets of pure hell." I shrugged.

John shook his head. "My parents went mental."

"Sorry." I couldn't hold back my grin.

XxXxXxX

We said goodbye to John as he entered geography, cutting his and Vanessa's friendly argument about which lesson (history or Geography) was better. I refused to take a side, declaring both Dull, much to their amusement. John's best argument was how great his teacher was, funny and sarcastic, with loads of stickers and posters and things that were funny and how Mr. Jones could be really strict sometimes. That didn't exactly fill me with joy, but Vanessa told me he was alright really, as long as you don't stay in his bad books. I was already there, so I thought I should be on my best behaviour today.

Vanessa walked in first, and as I followed her I noticed the teacher wasn't there yet, and there were only a few students, the rest were still on their way. At least we weren't late. I took a seat on Vanessa's left, in the middle isle of the three rows of desks stretching from the front of the class towards the back. We were both at the pair of desks just behind the front sets.

I took a few moments to get a look around the room, it looked to be usually a geography room, maps and things around, and a fair amount of maps that had been coloured in. Looks like the Jumbo Crayon theory was at least partly true.

"Oh, Sherlock." Vanessa brought my attention back to her. "I thought I should introduce you to someone else in the class, this is Lydia."

( - A/N: Shameless self-insertion =] - )Lydia looked up from her book – It read 'The Golden Compass' on the bind - smiled happily at me, flicking her straightened but fairly boyish hair out of her eyes with her left hand. The hair was dark brown, and it appeared to be her natural colour, her fringe was just about too long, showing she hadn't been to the hairdressers recently. Her uniform wasn't too neat but neat enough to keep her out of the teacher's radar, like mine. Her smile was welcoming and thankfully not flirtatious, but I could see the curiosity in her eyes.

"Hey." Lydia raised her hand in a casual two-fingered salute before running her hand through her hair, somehow not ruining it much.

"I figured it would be good if someone else here knew you and didn't start judging you or something." Vanessa explained.

"Oh, thanks." I smiled. "Nice to meet you Lydia." I grinned at her, trusting her somehow. Any further conversation was stopped by the person who sits next to Lydia arriving, and starting a conversation about a television series of some kind.

There was a break of a few more minutes, in which Vanessa and I discussed our families – I spoke about Mycroft, she told me about her twin sister Bryony – and I could hear Lydia in the background speaking to her friend about the show, all I caught was 'When he got shot by that astronaut, I seriously thought the world had ended! I mean, how could he die!'.

The conversation cut short as the door opened at Mr. Jones walked in, showing how much authority this guy had over the students, but a few were smiling at him, so I figured Vanessa hadn't been just trying to cheer me up by saying he was pretty funny and happy most of the time.

"Right you crazy lot! Stop chatting!" He looked at the boy in the desk in front of us. "Oh, Jake? You're still here? Didn't those hit-met get you?" He sighed. "God, will I never get rid of you?" The class laughed, and I saw the girl next to Lydia grinning insanely at the boy, even though he was looking away, and deduced she must fancy him or something, they hadn't spoken or exchanged smiles, so it wasn't a friendship.

Sir scanned the room, and his expression cleared as he settled his gaze on me. I felt rather than heard all eyes turn to me, Lydia and Vanessa included, but their expressions, as I glanced over, were more of worry than expectation like the others.

"Ah, Mister Holmes, glad you made the effort to arrive in normal clothes today. Well done!" He grinned, and I let out a breath of relief, seemed I had been forgiven.

"Well, before we begin, you lot. I'd like to let you all know of a little treat. There is a trip going to Guy's and St. Thomas' Hospital, the old amputation theatre connected to a church, then the Science Museum, and then you lot can run rampant over Covent Gardens. There are only 30 places, and two classes to cover, so if you'd like to go, collect a letter at the end, and get the money in as soon as possible, okay? It's £15.00, and you'll need spending money, but it's all explained in the letters, which are here." He slammed a hand casually on a pile of white papers in front of him that he'd brought with him and put next to the boy – Jake – in front of us. Jake flinched. Sir just smiled. "Oh, don't worry Jake. If I were aiming at you, I wouldn't have missed." He acted like he was about to strike at Jake but stopped, grinning. "Wait, I can't, Mr Green told me off last time." The class laughed again.

"Right, enough joking!" Mr. Jones clapped his hands. "Time to learn. Lydia, Louis Pasteur!"

"Germ Theory." Lydia shot back.

"Vanessa. John Snow!"

"Cholera in the water." Vanessa stated confidently.

"Good. Romy. Where was the pipe infected with Cholera in London?"

"Broad Street?" Romy offered.

"Yes! Be more confident Romy." Sir looked at me. "Now, Mr Holmes…Miasmatic Theory?"

The class went quiet, and I could tell they were expecting me to get it wrong. I'd already flicked through Vanessa's book on the way here, and caught the words Sir had said as I went, it was on the latest page, along with a quick explanation. I smirked. "The theory that bad air causes disease."

Sir smiled. "Well done. Did they teach you History in your old school?"

"Never been to school, sir." I stated, and realised as the class looked at me that I shouldn't have. "I mean, I was home schooled."

"Oh, did you learn history?"

"No, I just picked it up out of Vanessa's book on the way here." I smiled. Sir grinned. "Well, good work. You'll do well in this class."

And his direction was sent somewhere else.

"Shelby. Spontaneous…" He looked at Lydia's friend next to her.

"Generation."

I heard Lydia mutter 'regeneration' and chuckle to herself, and Vanessa and Shelby smiled.

Seemed like this lesson in itself wasn't so Dull after all, but I knew the writing would be. At least I had the trip to think about. I'd have to ask Mycroft if he could slip in John to go as well, even though it sounded like a history-students-only kind of thing.

XxXxXxX

**A/N: Ta-daa! I thought that if I bring in **_**Silver Danger**_** and Sherlock is in the same History as her, and so am I, why not? I might have exaggerated to make myself sound like I hope to, but I hope I stayed close to myself, if that makes sense, Ness, you'll have to let me know. **

**Um, anyone guess the show I was heard to be discussing? Just wondering…**

**PLEASE review for me! PLEASE! I'll give you all cookies and stuff, and if you want to be in this, in any way, please let me know, give a name and description – doesn't have to be actually you, if you're web-wise or conscious or whatever, but as long as you KNOW it's you – and what you want to do/say even if it isn't to Sherlock and it's just in the corridor to John or Ness or myself, let me know, yea? **


End file.
